555 Days... The Continuation

Welcome to 555 Days as a Poet by The Crafty Scribe

Back in 2010, I challenged myself to write a poem or a short verse a day, and post it to a blog. 555 Days as a Poet by The Crafty Scribe is the continuation of the experiment.

I gave myself 18 months to recover from the original daily blog postings, and now, I am ready to start it all over again. Although as I was beginning in the middle of the year, I thought 6 months was too short a time after my last experience.

"If I could complete a year of poems, how about 18 months?" I thought. I worked out that would be 549 days. I could have rounded it up to 550 to included New Years Day 2014, but then I thought I'd go 5 better... to 555 days.

Why 555? According to many spiritual teachers, the number 555 is a sign of change and the flow of energy. I thought it related to the blog. I spent a year writing a poem every day, then rested for 18 months. Now the tide has turned. It's time to begin the flow of words in my life again.

I'm not a trained poet, just an enthusiastic scribe wanting to create something new each day. I don't truly know my stanza from my meter, but I hope to improve and get my poetic license someday! Expect the weird, the strange and the inner workings of the Crafty Scribe's mind. Let's ride the waves once more.

Please pass on the blog address to all your verse and lyrical loving friends. I hope you will join me, and read my daily scribbling.

Wednesday, 31 July 2013

"We Didn't Notice The Rain" (Entry 373)

We didn't notice. 
Not straight away. 
If at all, 
We gazed to say,
"Thank Goodness, the rain's stopped. 
No umbrella this day."

We cheered the sun beamed and smiled. 
We can plan that Barbecue...
Fingers crossed - touch wood. 
It will stay clear. 
Without fear, clear it stayed. 
No rain. Clouds disappeared. 

Unexpected heat wave,
Announced the recalculating weather bureau. 
Who knew? (They didn't.)
Cor! Wot A Scorcher!
Leered the tabloids,
Showing scantily clad peaches on beaches. 

Water rationing into place. 
Two months after the rain ceased. 
Just to be on the safe side,
Murmured over-paid aides in Government and Utilities. 
Both wringing hands in greed and sweat.
(Ways of wealth increase of us? You bet!)

Panic 
Set in as storage levels dropped. 
Draught becoming crisis. 
Asthmatic mist hung over the land
Wheezing and sucking last moisture from earth. 
Weak winds grasped and gasped. 

No water in reservoirs or rivers. 
No water in ponds or lakes. 
On shelves in bottles became extinct. 
A drop of pure more valued than diamond or gold 
No meaning linked to money, itself. 
Sea levels dropped as tides weakened world wide. 

Humans no equipped for fittest survival. 
After the rain stopped,
Grass and trees,
To elephant and bees,
Withered and dried to die
And so did we. 

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